I Will Love You Until the Day I Die
by Everybody's Starry Eyed
Summary: 100 prompts about my OTP from the Walking Dead - Andrea/Daryl. Current Prompt: "He knew she was okay. She had to be okay."
1. 5: Numbness

**Prompt Title: **5: Numbness

**Rating: **T

**Characters**: Andrea, Daryl Dixon, Andrea/Daryl

**Word Count: **1,000+

**Summary: **After Dale's death, Andrea can't feel anything but _numb._

**Author's Note: **So this is my first time doing one of these prompt things. I have no idea what's going to happen or if I'm going to be able to keep up, but I will try my hardest. I hope you enjoy this first prompt!

**. . . **

It happens in a flash and Andrea has no idea how she got from Point A to Point B. All she knows is that she's hovering over Dale's body – his _walker _bitten body. Her hands are covered in the sticky red substance and she can feel the tears falling down her cheeks. His eyes are on hers, and she wants to look away but she can't.

Screaming surrounds the atmosphere, but Andrea pays no mind to it. She's still in denial that Dale is about to turn into a walker any second. _Her _Dale - the same one who saved her from the CDC, the one who has acted as her father through it all. _This is not happening, _she thinks stubbornly as his eyes roll into the back of his skull, which only makes her cry harder.

Then a shot is fired.

And Dale is _dead. _

She's breathing heavily and keeping a firm grip on his limp hand, praying that he'll come back. But she knows in the back of her mind that he won't. It gets quieter as the group disperses; some going to mourn by themselves, others going to sleep. She slowly gets stands up, swaying a little bit as she tries to maintain her balance. Her tears are long gone and are replaced by some kind of _numbness. _

She trudges miserably to the house, climbing up the steps, her mind blank. She finds herself in the upstairs bathroom, staring at her ugly face in the dirt stained mirror. It's covered in blood and her hair is unkempt, but she could care less. Stripping to her undergarments, she turns on the cold, shower water.

Letting it run for a little while, she sits on the toilet seat, staring into the abyss. All she can think is _Dale is dead, Dale is dead, Dale is dead, _over and over again. Her feet guide her into the shower, setting her down in the porcelain tub. She hugs her knees tightly to her chest, placing her chin on top of them. She looks down at the blood trailing down into the drain, and she feels like throwing up.

She doesn't realize that a person has entered the bathroom until she hears someone call her name. Without looking up, she already knows who it is. Who could forget his smooth, Southern drawl? She can't bear to look at him; she doesn't want him to see her this way, so _weak. _He steps into the bathtub with all his clothes on and takes a seat next to her. She doesn't make any sign of moving and her mind hasn't totally registered the fact that _Daryl is actually here, in the bathroom, with her. _

He hesitantly takes one of her bloodied hands from her tight grip on her legs and starts to wash off all the blood with a wash cloth. Watching him methodically rubbing the grime from her nails, something in her snaps and she's forced back into reality. She feels the cold water hit her body like a thousand bullets raining down on her. She looks down to see that she's _half fucking naked _in front of Daryl, whom she has a little bit of a crush on.

Without thinking, she pulls her hand from his and runs it through her hair frantically, feeling her body start to tremble with unshed tears. She can feel his eyes on her and she feels more than embarrassed; she's _mortified _at how vulnerable she is. Hiding her face in her hands, she lets out a sob she didn't know she was holding back. Her shoulders shake and her lips tremble and _oh my god, Dale is dead. _

She can so vividly see his body, the unfocused look in his eyes as he slowly turned into a walker. She can feel his blood on her hands, her face, all over her body. _Why? Why does this keep happening? _She thinks helplessly. The more the people die, the more it hurts.

Feeling an arm wrap around her shoulder, she flinches away. She looks over at the person who was still in the bath tub, Daryl, who eyes said more than words could. She throws herself into his arms, crying into his shoulder. She feels his arms slowly wrap around her body, rubbing her back awkwardly.

"Shh," he says quietly, "S'alright."

After he holds her for a long time, he gently pushes her back and goes back to cleaning her hands and face as the tears continue to roll down her face. They start to slow and by the time he's done, they're completely gone. He twists around and turns off the shower, leaving the atmosphere colder than it already was. He helps her up out of the bathtub and ushers her to one of the guest rooms, where a clean pile of clothes sits waiting for her.

"Heshal said that you could stay in this room for the night," Daryl explains hastily, "He pulled out some clothes that he thought would fit you." She picks up the clothes and examines them; a yellow tank top, a green jack, and a \pair of bell bottom jeans. There was an awkward silence between the pair as she sat down on the bed, only in her bra and underwear.

"'M just gonna go." He said awkwardly, opening the door behind him.

"Hey, Daryl?" she calls out and he turns around, surprised to hear her speak.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." She said, "For the bathroom. And for shooting Dale."

He shifts uncomfortably on his feet, looking everywhere but at her, "Someone had to do it." He mumbled before swinging the door close as he exited.

She fingered the clothes next to her, trying to think about something other than Dale and his unexpected death. Of course, her thoughts wander to the crossbow-wielding redneck, who seemed to have a soft side for her. Her lips twitched upwards as she thought about the ruggedly handsome gentleman who helped her out so often.

She crawled under the warm sheets, closing her eyes. The last thought she had before drifting off to sleep was if Daryl could possibly like someone like her.


	2. 26: Flowers

**Prompt Title: **26: Flowers

**Rating: **M (suggestive content and foul language)

**Characters: **Andrea, Daryl Dixon, Carol, Andrea/Daryl

**Word Count: **1,600+

**Summary: **Why isn't she getting any flowers? Isn't she the one that he's fucking?

**Author's Note: **So this is one of my more fluffy-ish work, but I think I like the way it ended up anyways. I'm still working on getting Daryl's dialect right, so my apologies if it sounds a bit off. Hope you enjoy!

**. . . **

Andrea stands by the campfire, talking with Lori about laundry even though she could care less. She sees Daryl walk up with a few squirrels attached to his belt; he tosses them by the fire. He catches her looking at him and he nods at her before going to find Rick. Her lips twitch up into a small smile.

After they admitted that they had feelings for each other a few weeks ago, Andrea and Daryl have been fucking each other at night, when no one could hear or see them. It was great and she was feeling better for once since the apocalypse had started. Turning back to look at Lori, she quickly dismissed the thoughts of Daryl, knowing that she could think about him later tonight when he was in her tent.

"Hey, do any of you have an extra bottle of water?" Carol asked from the other side of the camp fire.

"Uh, sure." Andrea replied pulling one out of the cooler they stole from a minivan not too long ago. She walked over and gently handed it to her.

Carol gave her an appreciative smile, "Thanks."

"No problem." Andrea quickly replied, watching her pull out a plastic cup and pouring the water into it. She picked up the flower on the ground next to her and plopped it into the cup, gazing at it with a soft expression.

"That's a pretty flower." Andrea commented, placing her hands casually on her hips.

"Oh, thank you. Daryl gave it to me." She replied, standing up, "I'm gonna go put it in my tent." She said before walking away.

Andrea stood there, flabbergasted. Since when did Daryl go skipping around and picking flowers? And then giving them to other women? She was trying not to be jealous, but there was definitely something wrong here. They were close after she lost Sophia, but she hadn't realized _how _close.

Besides, it's not like Andrea had any right to be mad; she wasn't _married _to the guy or anything. Why does she care? As far as she knows, they're just fuck buddies and nothing more. Why did it hurt so much to see Carol with some stupid flower?

It hurt because Andrea didn't want to be a fuck buddy. She wanted to be the only woman Daryl wanted. She didn't want to share him with anyone, which was completely selfish but she couldn't help herself. She had no one left besides Daryl and she needed him, probably more than he needed her.

_This is ridiculous_, she thought angrily, storming off to take her turn being on watch. _It's just some dumb flower, _she tried to convince herself. But it wasn't.

. . .

Andrea sat on her sleeping bag in her tent later that night, only in a tank top and her underwear. The flower still burned in her mind and had bugged her all day, no matter how hard she tried to not think about it. A book was resting in her lap, but she couldn't even focus on the simple words of her trashy novel. She groaned in frustration and threw her book to the other side of the room, flipping over to lie on her stomach.

She heard the zipper of her tent opening up and in stepped Daryl Dixon, looking a little bit smug. Rolling onto her side, she stared at him, trying to think of a way to bring up the whole flower ordeal. Before she could utter a word, his mouth was on hers. She moaned as he climbed on top of her, settling his hands just below her breasts. He quickly pushed his tongue into her mouth and she could feel him against her inner thigh.

She was so lost in kissing him that she had forgotten about the flower momentarily. But it came back to her alright, and then she was seething with anger. She pushed against his chest, detaching his mouth from hers.

He looked down at her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "What is it?" he asked, dazed.

"Do you ever think about being more intimate with each other? Like, not having sex but just talking or something like that?"

He was still hovering over her, his hot breath tingling on her skin, "What are ya talking 'bout, woman?"

"Well," she said nervously, already regretting bringing it up, "all we ever do is fuck, and don't you ever think about doing more than that?"

He sighed, leaning back to sit on his knees as she sat up as well, "What is this 'bout?"

"Nothing, I was just thinking." She lied, fidgeting with her hands. He gave her a pointed look and she sighed heavily, "You gave Carol a flower and you always talk to her, but you never do any of that stuff with me."

He looked at her for a second, realization dawning on him. "Are ya serious? You're concerned all for some flower?"

She was fuming now. Didn't he get it? This was more than just a stupid flower. This was about _them. _"Yes! All we ever do is fuck around! I thought you liked me more than that, but I guess not." She huffed, looking away from him.

There was a long silence between them before he got up and moved towards the zipper of the tent, "Whatever, be that way." He yelled, before zipping up the tent in anger. She could hear him stomping away to his tent.

She was right, wasn't she? She wasn't sure anymore because all of a sudden she felt completely guilty. She flopped back onto her sleeping bag, frustrated with herself and the situation. _Why can't I ever do anything right?_

. . .

Andrea lies in her tent the next morning, aimlessly staring at the white walls of her tent. She barely got any sleep last night, overwhelmed by her fight with Daryl. Hearing her tent start to zip open, she shoots up in her bed, hoping it's him. It's not; it's Lori Grimes, the last person she wants to see right now.

"There's breakfast." She stated, looking over her disheveled state. "Everything alright, Andrea?"

"Just peachy." She replied sarcastically, pulling her hair into a tight ponytail.

"What's wrong? Does this have something to do with Daryl?" she asks. Andrea eyes widen in surprise, _how does she – _"I saw him walk out of your tent last night, he looked upset."

She sighed, "We just got into a fight."

"Ah," Lori replied, nodding in understanding. She knows a thing or two about having fights with your significant other. "If it makes you feel any better, Rick and I fight all the time, even about the stupidest things."

"Yeah, but you're married." Andrea replied lamely.

Lori chuckled, "Yes, that we are. But trust me, Daryl cares about you. He'll come around." She turned around to slip out of the tent before looking over her shoulder, "You should come out and have some breakfast, it'll make you feel better. "

Andrea nodded, pulling on her worn jeans and jacket, slipping out of the tent behind Lori.

. . .

After her watch, she went to her tent after doing her laundry to try to relax and read her book. Her thoughts wandered to Daryl and when he would finally approach her and they could just have make up sex. She shook her head, focusing back on her book.

Sometime later, she heard the zipper of her tent being ripped open. Too engrossed in her book, she didn't look up until said intruder cleared his throat. She looked over her book at Daryl Dixon, who stood at the entrance of her tent.

"Can I come in?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah, yeah, sure." She replied hastily, sitting up and placing her book to her side before facing him. He took a seat next to her and looked down at the ground. There was a long silence and she was about to apologize for her stupid feelings, but he beat her to the punch.

He whipped out some flowers from behind his back. It was a beautiful bouquet of red tulips tied together with a torn piece of shirt. Her eyes widened and she couldn't help but let out a gasp of surprise as he shoved the flowers into her hands. She took them happily, smelling the sweet scent.

"Look," he began, gaining her full attention, "I ain't real good with feelings and all that shit. But I know that I like you and I can be a jackass sometimes, but I don't mean to be." He sighed, running his hand through his dirty hair, "I'm sorry for bein' an asshole."

She smiled at him sweetly, putting her hand behind his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Pulling back, she continued to smile at him, "I'm sorry for being a bitch. I was just being stupid."

He leaned forward and kissed her hard, pulling her hair out of its respective ponytail. He ran his hair through her curly locks, slipping his tongue into her mouth. She set the tulips down beside her with her long forgotten book, pulling him on top of her as she fell back on to her sleeping bag.

He slipped her shirt over her head, exposing her black, lacy bra. He leaned down and began tracing his tongue over the slope of her breasts. She moaned, bucking her hips against him and knotting her hands into his hair.

Leaning back up, he gave her a quick kiss before saying, "Let's pick up where we left off last night."

She nodded eagerly, tugging his shirt over his head and began working on his belt.

After an hour, they both walked out of her tent, matching smiles on their faces as they looked at each other and blushed. Lori couldn't help but smile and shake her head at them before continuing her work.


	3. 39: Hatred

**Prompt: **39: Hatred

**Rating: **T

**Characters: **Daryl Dixon, Shane Walsh, Andrea, Andrea/Daryl

**Word Count: **400+

**Summary: **If there was one person in the whole group he couldn't stand, it was Shane fucking Walsh.

**Author's Note: **Finally a little drabble from Daryl's point of view. Takes place after Andrea and Shane come back from the housing development after they had sex that I highly disapproved of. Hope you like it!

**. . .**

Daryl came back from the woods, a deer hanging around his neck. He trudged through the field to Hershal's house, squinting at the glaring sun. _It's so fucking hot, _he thought annoyed as he made it to the campsite. Throwing the deer to the ground by the fire, he rubs the kinks out of his neck.

"Oh my god, Daryl, this is great!" Lori replied, wheels turning in her, thinking of what she could cook for dinner. "Thank you."

He only grunted in response, heading to his tent for some peace and quiet. He heard tires screeching down the road, approaching the house. He tensed, watching it cautiously until he realized it as the blue pickup truck carrying Andrea and Shane who were coming back from searching for Sophia.

Daryl snorted. It annoyed him to no end that Shane was somehow higher on the pyramid than he was. He was a sociopath, only thinking about what was the best for himself, not for the group. The truck stopped in front of the house, both occupants hopping out to report what they found to their leader, Rick.

He made his way towards Glenn, who had mentioned something earlier about a supply run. Glenn looked happy to see him and began blabbering about what they need and how he was _so _relieved that Daryl was tagging along for this one. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Andrea and Shane facing each other, deeply engaged in conversation.

Shane had that smug look on his face that made Daryl's blood boil. He took a deep breath, trying to control his hatred for the monster. He looked back at Glenn who was still going on about the supply run and how he might bring Maggie and blah blah blah. Returning his gaze to Andrea and Shane, he saw him leaning into her and whispering something into her ear.

That made him _furious. _

Okay, maybe he liked Andrea and maybe it ticked him off to see her so close with someone like Shane. But the fact that any woman would willingly stand there and let a man like him touch her was infuriating. She stood frozen, like a deer in headlights as he placed his hand on her shoulders. That definitely was _not _the Andrea he knew.

Daryl was one second away from going over there and ripping Shane's dick off when he finally pulled back, making Andrea sigh in relief. He walked passed her, but not before giving her butt a firm spank. She jumped, glaring at his back before stomping over in Daryl's direction.

Just as she was about to pass him, he reached his arm out and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just peachy." She responded sarcastically as she jogged the rest of the way to her tent.

Oh, he was going to _kill _Shane.


	4. 51: Longing

**Prompt: **51: Longing

**Rating: **T

**Characters: **Daryl Dixon, Andrea/Daryl

**Word Count: **550+

**Summary: **Daryl can't help but hate himself as he reaches over to bring her closer to him when she isn't there.

**Author's Note: **This one is sort of angsty but I was sort of feeling this way today so I took it out on my writing, sorry! Anyways, I hope you enjoy it, even though it's not the happiest of scenarios.

**. . . **

They've been stuck in this fucking prison for weeks now and Daryl can't remember the last time he got some decent sleep. Not because the beds were made of cardboard – which he was pretty sure they were – or because it smelled like shit all the time – which it did and it wasn't him. It was because he was missing a certain blonde temptress who used to drape herself across him during the long nights. He hadn't realized how much he appreciated the gesture until now, when he was alone and cold.

It was maddening because he _wanted _to go back for her – he had an inkling that she was okay – but Rick wouldn't allow it. And as much as he wanted to tell Rick to go fuck himself, he decided that he would stick with the group, thinking that she might find them during the night. He really wished he hadn't listened to Rick.

He rolls over onto his side, facing the moldy wall. His eyes glance over the empty space next to him and he groans, rolling back onto his back and rubbing his face in irritation. It was _impossible _not to think about her when most of the things he did unconsciously were for her. He left enough room for her on the bed every night. Every morning he would save a piece of bread for her because she would save a piece of meat for him. Hell, the other day he stole a magazine that he knew she liked. He ended up giving it to Beth because he didn't want to embarrass himself any further.

Sitting up and swinging his legs over the bed, he stood up and walked outside. He saw Rick patrolling the perimeter and he made his way towards him. "Hey!" Daryl called out as quietly as he could. At the sudden noise, Rick whipped around and held the knife up, ready to strike. He sighed in relief when he saw it was just Daryl.

"Let me take over." he said – it wasn't a question, more of a command.

Rick looked ready to argue but seeing the determination in his eyes, he decided against it, "Okay, if you get tired you can call me back out."

"Not gonna happen." He muttered under his breath, taking the knife from Rick.

Rick ignored his comment, brushing past him before saying, "Stay safe!"

Daryl rolled his eyes at Rick's over protectiveness. He had every right to be overprotective of his wife and kid, but not of him. He wasn't no baby who needed babysitting every Saturday night. He was a grown man, and he could take care of himself.

Maybe that's why Andrea always got so mad at him, because she didn't like being babied. He didn't doubt that she could take care of herself – he _knows _she's a total bad ass – it's just he would hate to see anything happen to her.

_Snap out of it, _he scolded himself, focusing back on the fence before him. When did he become such a love sick pussy? Mooning over some city slick chick with a bad attitude and a hot body was not the way he usually rolled. But there was something about her that was damn attractive to him, no matter how cliché that sounded.

If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that Andrea needed to find him soon so he could stop torturing himself with these pathetic thoughts of her.


	5. 23: Beauty

**Prompt: **23: Beauty

**Rating: **T

**Characters: **Andrea, Glenn, Daryl Dixon, Andrea/Daryl

**Word Count: **1400+

**Summary: **Andrea missed a lot of things pre-apocalypse, but one of the things she missed the most was her beauty products.

**Author's Note: **Since the last one was a bit of downer, here is one made purely of fluff. Sorry if at the ending it's a little OOC, I just imagine Daryl doing that. Have fun reading!

**. . .**

Andrea and Glenn were making another supply run for the group. They make a run once a week, Glenn being the leader of them and picking one person to tag along in case anything happens. He usually picks Maggie, but today he decided to bring Andrea along. They're in an abandoned Target, carts and basket strewn everywhere and various items cluttered in the aisles. Glenn says he'll take the food section of the store while she does the first aid stuff.

She lightly jogs down to the medical supplies aisle, quickly picking up a first aid kit, over the counter drugs, and a few tampons for the ladies. She looks down the remaining aisles, searching for anything else they could possibly need. And it was then that she struck gold.

She stumbled upon the makeup section that was still mostly intact.

Andrea missed a lot things from before the apocalypse, but one of the things she missed the most were beauty products. There was just something about dabbing on some mascara and lipstick in the morning that made her feel so much more put together. Before she could think twice, she began shoving the various items into the sack: eye shadow, mascara, eyeliner, lipstick, tweezers – anything and everything that she could possibly dream of.

"Andrea?" she heard Glenn call from a little bit behind her. _Shit, _she thought, hastily throwing the rest of the stuff into her bag before ducking down into a few aisles ahead of her. She stepped out nonchalantly, acting like she had just finished picking up some tampons. "Did you get everything we needed?"

"What?" she asked, dumbfounded by his question, "Oh, yeah! Totally, got everything in here." She said, gesturing largely to the sack over her shoulder. He gave her a look before he turned around and started heading towards the parking lot.

They ran into a few walkers, but they were easily taken out with Andrea's gun. They threw the sacks into the back seat and hopped into the car, driving away before any of their walker friends could show up.

. . .

They arrived at camp twenty minutes later, proud of themselves for another successful supply run. They pulled to a stop a few feet away from the site, pulling the sacks out from the back seat before walking over to the others.

"Did you two get everything we needed?" Rick asked once he saw the two of them approaching.

"Yeah, everything is in these sacks. We should be good for another week or so." Glenn smiled cheekily, walking past the sheriff to put down the sack. Andrea quickly followed suit, making a quick detour at her tent to drop off her makeup supplies before handing the bag over to the group.

Andrea couldn't stop smiling the rest of the day, excited to finally be able to apply makeup for the first time in months.

. . .

The first time someone noticed that she was wearing makeup was a week after they went to the Target. And it was _Daryl _of all people. Daryl, who didn't know that you wanted sex until you had practically taken your _and _his shirt off. _That_ Daryl.

She was out hunting with him, which she frequently did. It was nice to get away from the group, even if it was only for a short period of time. The quiet really helped to lift the weight off her shoulders and gave the two of them some alone time, without the group's ever watchful eyes. He was looking at her; she could feel his stare burning into her skin but she chose to ignore it, focusing her attention on the ground below her.

"Hey, Andrea." He called, getting her attention.

"Yes?" she answered, waiting for whatever he was about to say.

"You look different." He said curtly, shocking her.

"Uh, do I?" she asked nervously.

"Yeah. Like you did somethin' to your face and shit." He replied matter-of-factly.

"I didn't do anything to my face, if that's what you're wondering." She said, hopping that he believed her lie.

Apparently, he did because he left the subject untouched; switching it over to hunting a particular deer he had been tracking the past week. _That was a close one, _she thought, releasing a breath she didn't know that she was holding. Why was she nervous if someone found out? It was just _makeup, _for crying out loud. Maybe she was just afraid that Daryl would yell at her for being so careless and taking supplies they didn't even need.

Whatever it was, she intended to keep it a secret.

. . .

In the next few weeks, people started to notice that there was something off about the way she looked. She brushed off the comments, saying that they were all delusional and that they've had too much of the Georgia sun. Surprisingly, the person who brought this up the most was Daryl. They spend a lot of time together – heck, they even share the same tent now – but she always thought boys were oblivious to such trivial things as makeup.

Andrea woke up one morning to an empty sleeping back. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and saw that Daryl was missing. She overslept; she must have been super tired from the various activities of the night prior because she _never _sleeps in. Throwing the blankets off of her, she pulled one of Daryl's shirts over her naked, petite body and dug around in her bag for her mirror and makeup.

She quickly began to apply the light brown eye shadow, keeping her ears alert in case anyone were to come over to her tent. She pulled out the dark brown eyeliner and began to carefully apply it to her upper lid, focusing solely on this one step. She was so focused that she didn't hear the light footsteps coming up to her tent. Hearing the tent being zipped open, she slipped, the eyeliner dragging all the way across her temple.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, shoving all the products back into the bag and turning away from the door.

"Andrea?" came the Southern drawl of her favorite redneck. She felt him creep closer and he put a gentle hand onto her back, "Are ya okay?"

"Yeah, totally fine!" she said, perkier than she should have. "Can you give me a minute?" She knew he wasn't buying it, but she wouldn't give up without a fight. Even if it was a sad, pathetic one.

"Andrea, look at me." He said, tugging at her shoulder. She sighed, thinking _might as well get this over with. _She removed her hand from her temple and faced him straight on. His eyes widened at the sight of makeup messily applied on her face. "What the hell are ya doing to your face?"

"It's nothing, just a little make up." She mumbled, her cheeks heating up from embarrassment.

"What in the hell do ya need that shit for? We're in an apocalypse right now, for fuck's sake!" he yelled, upset that she felt the need to wear makeup to feel somewhat pretty, like all those other fucked up chicks did.

"I-I don't know." Her voice faltered. She looked up at him, "Pretty stupid, huh?"

He looked at her long and hard, before pulling her into a deep kiss. It wasn't like the kisses from last night that were rough and sloppy and fast. It was gentle and made her warm from her head to her toes. It was beautiful – it made her _feel_ beautiful.

"You don't need this shit, Blondie." He said, resting his forehead against hers. He pulled her bag towards him and dug out all the cosmetics, placing them in a cardboard box he found in the corner of the tent. He got up from his sitting position and went to walk out of the tent. He turned around quickly, "Also, you might want to wipe that off your face."

She laughed, a genuine one, as she licked her fingers and wiped the remainder of the makeup off her face. She pulled on some jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt as she stepped outside to eat some breakfast. What she saw outside made her bend over in laughter and left her catching her breath for several minutes.

In the middle of the camp where the fire was, the cardboard box sat on the heap of wood, burning all the makeup to dust.


	6. 30: Fixed

**Prompt Title: **30: Fixed

**Rating: **T

**Characters: **Daryl Dixon, Andrea, Andrea/Daryl

**Word Count: **1,600+

**Summary: **It's just his luck that he's stuck with a clueless woman in the middle of nowhere and his truck has broken down. And then add walkers to the equation. Shit.

**Author's Note:** Sorry that I haven't been updating recently, I've had a shit ton of homework to do over the past week. I decided to make this one a little more action packed, so to say. Sorry if the scene is a little bit played down, I've never worked with intense fighting scenes before but I tried my best! Hope you enjoy this prompt!

**. . .**

It was time for the group to leave the abandoned house they had been staying in for the past few weeks. It was very dangerous to stay in one place for too long and when they did, it made everyone feel on edge, anticipating a herd of walkers to come through at any time. Piling into their respective vehicles, the group heads north, hopefully somewhere out of Georgia.

Daryl ends up riding with Blondie, which he doesn't mind at all. She's got a map in her lap and her hands are reaching up to tie her hair back with an elastic, her shirt sliding up to show a little bit of her midsection. Of course, Daryl doesn't notice. He's following the Subaru that holds the Grimes family. He sees the outline of Rick's stupid sheriff hat that has been permanently attached to the Grimes child's head.

He steals a glance over at his navigator, who is leaning her forehead against the window and fogging up the glass with her warm breath. Her head perks up as she sees something out the window, "Daryl." She breathes.

"Hmm?" he hums, pretending not to have been staring at her.

"Look!" she exclaims, "There's a Walmart. I bet there's a whole lot that we need in there."

He honks the horn three times, signaling for the chain of cars to stop. He hears the car behind him, who happens to be driven by Glenn, screech to a sudden stop. The sound makes him flinch and he can't help but mutter, "Damn Asian."

Andrea and Daryl hop out of the car, meeting the others around his truck. T-Dog looks irritated, trying to comprehend what was so important to stop their incredibly crucial drive. "What is it, Daryl?" Rick asks gently, even though Daryl could tell he was a little irate himself.

"There's a Walmart over there in the middle of nowhere. Figured that it must be stocked with food or somethin' of the sort." He explained, pointing over his shoulder to the abandoned superstore.

"Good call, Dixon." T-Dog grunted, uncrossing his arms.

"I think only a small group should go in, it would be safer." Rick declared, placing his hands on his hips in a very sheriff-like pose.

"Maggie and I can go!" Glenn said a little too eagerly. "I mean, you know, because I'm the supply run guy."

"I don't know, your car is sort of small." T-Dog stated, pointing at the hot red BMW convertible.

"Yeah, I agree." Rick said, glancing over at Daryl, "Why don't you and Andrea take this one? You've got a truck. It'll be easier to carry a lot of supplies."

Daryl glanced over at Andrea, who gazed back at him, thinking the same thing. She turned to look at Rick, a confident smile on her face, "Sure, we'll do it."

"Great. We're gonna keep going until we reach the border and then we'll wait for you and decide where to camp out for the night." He explained as he started to head back to his car, wife and son in tow.

Everyone returned to their own cars, Daryl turning over the engine and rolling towards the exit to the Walmart. Andrea folded up the map and put it in the glove compartment before leaning back, tapping her fingers on the door lightly.

Daryl liked this – the comfortable silence. He wasn't much for small talk – never was – and the fact that Andrea was able to keep herself silent for more than half an hour was a blessing in disguise. All the other women he knew would be jabbering on about "if her butt looked fat in this dress" and what not. It was plain stupid to Daryl; maybe it was because he was never very good at understanding women.

They pulled into the empty parking lot, looking around to see if there were any walkers in the vicinity. Finding none, they grabbed their weapons and trotted into the vacant superstore. After discovering some rusty carts, they split up and started at separate ends of the store. Daryl found blankets and heavy winter coats which they could use when it got really cold during the winter. He also stumbled upon boxes of canned goods, such as soup, beans, and the hated spam.

After an hour of scavenging everything they could find in the huge department store, they began dragging their four very full carts out to the truck. They piled everything into the car and by the time they were done, sweat was pouring down their faces from the heavy lifting. Pulling a tarp over the goods, Daryl hopped into the driver's seat and stuck his keys into the ignition.

The car stalled and he quickly pulled his keys out of the ignition. He stuck them in again, turning it. Again, he was met with the stutter of the engine. "Dammit," he cursed, opening his door and popping open the hood. Steam rose from the engine and he waved it out of his face, vexed with his bad luck.

"This car is too fucking old," he declared to no one in particular, pulling a rag out of his pocket and wiping it over his forehead.

"What's up?" Andrea asked, appearing next to him and inspecting the damage.

"The engine's messed up or somethin'." He grunted, obviously frustrated with his small knowledge on trucks. He worked in a junk yard during his teen years and he dealt with plenty of car parts before, but he couldn't remember how they functioned in a car that was actually _put together. _

"Maybe it's something with –"before Andrea can finish her sentence, there's a distinct moaning from a few yards away from them. They look around the hood to see a hoard of zombie approaching, looking for their next meal. "Shit, shit, shit." Andrea said under her breath as she pulled her gun out of the waistband of her pants.

It's just his luck that he's stuck with a clueless woman in the middle of nowhere and his truck has broken down. And then add hungry walkers to the equation. Shit. He tries to keep a calm head, inspecting the engine to find the problem. He looks over at Andrea, who looked ready to shoot at his word. "Take out as many as ya can, 'm gonna try to find the problem." He told her.

The shots of the gun ring in his ears as he turns back to the engine, leaning forward for a closer look. The battery was fine – still filled with juice – and the cables were connected. Maybe it had something to do with the spark plugs. He dug around, finding that the electrical spark was not connected. "God fucking dammit!" he yelled out of frustration.

"Uh, Daryl?" Andrea called, reloading her gun.

"What is it?" he shouted, deep in his work with the spark plugs.

"Daryl!" she shouted urgently, firing shot after shot.

"What!" he yelled looking up from his work. What he saw literally made his blood run cold. The hoard of walkers was about five feet away from them and more were coming their way. He quickly looked down, finally connecting the two car parts.

He ran over to the driver's side, kicking a walker out of the way. Sticking the key into the ignition, he turned it and finally heard the satisfying roar of the engine. Relief quickly flooded his body until he remembered Andrea was on the other side of the car, fighting for her life.

Closing the door behind him, he kicked the passenger door open and shot a bolt at the nearest walker. "Come on, Blondie!" he screamed, grabbing her arm and pulling her in. Suddenly, a walker pulled on her hair, making her bend backwards into a painful stretch. His eyes widened in terror and without a second thought, he whipped out his crossbow from behind him and shot the zombie dead in the eye.

"Not my girl, ya bastard!" he shouted, pulling her in and locking the door behind her. He slid over into the driver's seat and stomped on the gas pedal, running over a few walkers in the process. He skidded out of the empty parking lot and onto the deserted highway, high-tailing it out of there.

All that could be heard in the truck for the next several minutes was the heavy breathing of both passengers as Daryl drove slowly down the road. He finally stopped on the side of the interstate long after they had lost the walkers. Andrea quickly gripped his hand, squeezing it tightly – reassuring herself that they were still alive.

They had encountered many close calls – but none as close as this.

Their eyes met and in a flash, his lips were on hers and vice versa. She clung onto his sleeveless shirt, pulling him as close as possible. His hands rested on the side of her neck, rubbing soothing circles under her jaw line. She moaned into his mouth, her hands moving from his shirt up into his hair, clawing at the nape of his neck. He pulled back, leaning forward to leave a hot trail of kisses on her neck. She pulled his head closer, reveling in his warm touch.

He leaned back, gazing at her one last time before placing a chaste kiss on her lips. Starting the car again, he pulled back onto the highway like nothing had happened. He held one of her hands firmly in his grasp while the other one was steering the car. Halfway to their destination, Andrea turned to him with a sly smile on her face.

"So, I'm _your _girl now?" she asked, a teasing tone in her voice.

He could feel his cheeks flush in embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "Shut up, Blondie."


	7. 90: Sweater

**Prompt Title: **90: Sweater

**Rating: **T

**Characters: **Andrea, Daryl Dixon, Andrea/Daryl

**Word Count: **1,400+

**Summary:** Daryl would always tease her for wearing the oversized, navy blue sweater. She didn't care, as long as it kept her warm in the freezing truck.

**Author's Note: **Another fluffy, plot-bunny. Forgive me, I seem to be in quite the cute state of writing right now. Next time I'll try to write something a little bit edgier. Hope you like it anyways!

**. . .**

She picked it up when they were scavenging for supplies in abandoned cars on the deserted highway. The Escalade was filled with boxes of useful supplies, one of which held winter clothes. Lori picked out a frumpy, fleece coat for herself while grabbing the leather jacket for her husband and the smaller, puffy coat for her son. Carol pulled out one of those ugly, grandma sweaters and T-Dog opted for the rain jacket with the fuzzy inside. Daryl took the remaining leather jacket which only left Andrea with the giant, navy blue sweater.

Pulling it over her head, it smelt like cinnamon and mint mixed together. It was two sizes too big on her and hung just above her knees. Daryl scoffed as she climbed into the truck, glancing at her sweater. She looked at him, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "What?"

"Nothin'," he replied, starting the car. He looked over at her, a cocky smirk evident on his lips, "you just look like a huge blueberry."

She swatted him in the arm, her lips twitching upwards, "Shut up."

**. . .**

After a while, Andrea began to appreciate the sweater more. Sure, it was way too big and she wasn't all that fond of the color, but it kept her warm and that was what was important. The long sleeves acted as makeshift gloves and the long torso kept all the cold air out of her abdomen area. Plus if she left it by the fire for a while, it would be all nice and toasty for the next few hours.

Daryl took great joy in teasing her, calling her "Blueberry" anytime he saw her. Of course, she would sock him in the arm and tell him to go fuck himself, but she actually began to like the term of endearment. It had a nice ring to it. And it was a nice break from "Blondie".

They were in the truck, following the chain of cars in front of them up to South Carolina, which supposedly held a safe house facility. The thing about the rusty, old blue truck was that it was _always _freezing cold for the first hour of any trip. And Andrea _detested_ the cold.

"Can you make this thing any warmer?" she whined, turning the vents toward her. Her hands hovered over them, hoping to feel the warm air but received nothing.

"It'll be warm soon, woman." He replied gruffly, switching hands on the steering wheel. She groaned, pulling the loose neck line of her sweater up to cover her red nose. He glanced over at her, a smirk playing on his face, "Besides, isn't your blueberry keeping you warm?"

She smiled underneath the sweater, choosing not to respond. Leaning forward she grabbed Daryl's leather jacket out from under the seat and tried to wrap it around her legs as best as she could. She glanced over at him, looking at his faded out jeans and long sleeved shirt. He looked unaffected by the cold atmosphere around him and that made her a little ticked off.

"How come you're not cold? It's freezing!" she exclaimed, hugging her arms tighter around her midsection.

He chuckled, "Ya get used to this weather in the woods, Blueberry." She scoffed at his nickname and the way it sounded so natural rolling off his tongue. "And did I tell ya you could wear my jacket?"

"No." she answered smugly, wrapping the jacket tighter around her in spite of him.

**. . .**

Andrea fell in love with her sweater once it saved her life.

The group had all stopped at a local pharmacy, searching for medicine for Carol who had caught the flu. She was scanning the aisles, looking for anything that could help and also picking up things for herself. Her oversized sweater was hanging off her shoulder and she quickly pulled it up, heading into the next aisle.

She ran into Daryl, who happened to be stashing some painkillers into his pockets. Glancing up from his close inspections, he gave her a nod before going back to work. She looked at the opposite shelves, picking up some lotion tissues and Nyquil.

Everything was quiet in the store until Glenn frantically whisper shouted, "Walker!"

Daryl and Andrea exchanged glances, sharing the same thought as they crouched down and tried to blend in with the shelves. He hovered over her, a tight grip on her sweater-clad shoulder. She felt his warm breath tickle her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. They could hear the far-off moaning of the walker as it approached their aisle.

As soon as they saw it passing by, Daryl covered her mouth with his hand, making sure no noise could be heard. Andrea looked over to the side to see Rick, crouching as well. Once the walker was out of their way, Rick nodded at her, signaling that it was time for them to high tail it out of there. They stood up quickly, jogging towards the exit after everyone else.

The walker saw them leave and started stumbling after them, desperately wanting to feed on their succulent flesh. With her bad luck, Andrea accidently dropped the Nyquil. She turned around quickly, jogging back over to the drug. When she stood up, the walker was right in front of her. His undead scent filled her nostrils and sent her reeling backwards in disgust.

She turned around but not before the walker grabbed the back of her oversized sweater. Thanks to its size, he had not managed to scratch her skin and his fingers were caught in the loose pieces of yarn, which she was grateful for. But he had a death-like grip and was coming closer to her. Without thinking, she quickly slipped out of the sweater and sprinted toward the exit, jumping into Daryl's truck.

"What the hell were ya thinkin'!" Daryl berated her as soon as they got away from the pharmacy.

"I dropped the Nyquil." She replied lamely, hugging herself to hopefully retain whatever heat she had left. It wasn't working very well.

"You're so fuckin' stupid, woman!" he yelled, looking over at her to see her in a simple black camisole, her sweater long gone. "What the fuck happened to your sweater?"

"Walker snatched it." She said, her teeth quietly chattering.

"Well, don't be stupid 'bout it." He said, his tone softening. He threw her his leather jacket which she slipped on quickly and zipped up all the way. Stuffing her hands into the pockets, she couldn't help but think how much she already missed the warmth of her sweater.

"Scoot closer." He said sternly, not taking no for an answer.

She moved across the bench towards him, snuggling up into his warm side. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arm around her, burying her in his body heat. In a few minutes, she was asleep, feeling safe and warm.

**. . .**

In the next few weeks, she began to miss her sweater terribly. She missed the natural warmth it gave her body. She missed its oversized shape and how it covered every inch of her upper body. She hated wearing the crappy fleece that Glenn had picked up for her at some stupid department store.

She was lying in her tent late one night, tucked into her sleeping bag and reading a book. Her sheets were pulled up to her chin and she had several layers on underneath. And yet, her nose was still cold. _Fucking weather, _she thought spitefully as she turned the page of her book.

Daryl came into her tent, as usual. "Hey." He greeted quietly, sitting next to her.

"Hi." She replied, leaning in and giving him a quick kiss. They didn't have sex much during the winter so it was a little odd to see him in her tent so late at night. "Uh, what's up?"

"I found this today when me and Glenn went on a supply run." He explained, pulling a bundle of wool from behind his back. It was a sweater exactly like her old one, except that it was bright red and not as ratty. It was still oversized and warm as she massaged the fabric between her fingers.

"Oh my god, Daryl," she trailed off, looking up at him with her mouth open in shock, "thank you!" she exclaimed, throwing herself at him. She kissed him hard, running her hands through his unruly hair. His hands naturally went to her hips, pulling her into his lap.

She pulled back after a while, examining the sweater again. Looking back at him, she wore a sultry look on her face, "You know, I think you should be rewarded."

"What?" he asked clearly confused.

She slipped off her top shirt, leaving her in a thin tank top. She gently pushed him down and climbed on top of him, assaulting his lips once again.

Daryl was rewarded several times that night.


	8. 1: Beginning

**Prompt Title: **1: Beginning

**Rating: **T

**Characters: **Andrea, Amy, Dale, Merle Dixon, Daryl Dixon, Andrea/Daryl

**Word Count: **700+

**Summary: **He was the silent one, always watching out for God knows what.

**Author's Note: **So, here's the scene that started it all, I guess. It's not too mushy but I think you all will live, especially since my last two ones were nothing but fluff. Hope you enjoy!

**. . . **

Dale, Amy and Andrea were huddled around a small fire in the middle of the woods, enjoying a small dinner of beans and some type of meat one of the new comers had brought for them. Andrea stole a glance at the two brothers; they sat on the same log, eating their food in silence. The one named Merle was digging into his food like a savage while the other one named Daryl ate his food slowly, his eyes combing over every inch of the woods. He was always quiet and alert, prepared for some sort of zombie attack.

Andrea scooped another spoonful of the bland beans into her mouth, chewing it slowly. Looking over at Amy, she saw that her sister wore a pained expression as she tried to swallow down the vulgar food. Both of them were always pampered and neither were the camping type. Oh, how Andrea wished that they had gone camping more.

After they were all done with their food, they remained around the fire awkwardly, not sure whether to talk or to just sit in silence. Dale quickly made the decision as Andrea was picking at the dirt under her fingernails. "So, where are you from?"

His question was directed at the Dixon brothers. Daryl paid no attention to it, but Merle was more than happy to answer, "We're from Atlanta, like you fine people. We moved out to the countryside when we were younger, though."

"Oh, that's nice. I've always like the Georgia countryside." Dale commented idly.

"How about you?" Merle asked, his eyes glancing over at the two girls in the group, "Where are you lovely ladies from?"

"Tallahassee." Andrea stated curtly, trying to ignore the way that he was eyeing her and her sister.

"You guys seem to be a long way from home." Merle said, smirking at the pair.

"We came to Georgia to visit some family." Amy answered cheerily. She was always the optimist, looking for the best in people. "And Andrea had a client in Georgia. She's a lawyer."

"Really?" Merle asked, pretending to be intrigued. "You seem like a hard ass."

Andrea glared at him, "You're quite the charmer, Dixon."

He smiled, enjoying the fact that he could wind her up so easily. Andrea wasn't too keen on letting the rednecks join the group – even before the world started to end she didn't like them. Now she knows why – they were arrogant assholes.

"Your brother seems really quiet." Amy stated, eyeing the younger Dixon. He stood by the edge of the forest, looking for stray zombies or maybe some common sense.

"Ah, yeah," Merle replied, waving him off, "He's always been like that, ain't that right Daryl?"

The younger brother only grunted in response, not even turning around to face the group.

"Why? You seem to be so eager to talk." Andrea said snappily, not at all enjoying their new company.

"Watch it there, Missy." Merle warned, smirking at her, "At first, I thought the bitch act was hot but now it's starting to get annoying."

Rolling her eyes, she adjusted her position on the log. There was a brief silence before a noise was heard in the woods. Daryl's ears perked up, looking around for the source of the sound.

"What the hell was that?" Dale asked, standing up from his position on the log.

"Do you think it was a walker?" Amy asked in a panic, slightly hiding behind her sister.

"Cool it," Merle stated, "it was probably nothin', right Daryl?"

He was silent, eyes watching the forest carefully. Turning around, he locked eyes with Andrea almost immediately. He raised his crossbow, pointing it directly at her.

"What the fuck are you-"

Before she could finish, he had fired off the bolt in her direction. Instead of hitting her dead in the face, like she had thought it would, it connected with something directly behind her. She turned around just in time to see the zombie fall to the ground, the crossbow bolt stuck in his gruesome eye.

She stared in disbelief at the sight in front of her. How had he hit the zombie with such accuracy? She looked back at him as he marched over, pulling the bolt of the dead corpse like nothing had happened.

He looked at her briefly before saying, "Watch your fucking back, Blondie."


	9. 74: Found

**Prompt Title: **74: Found

**Rating: **T

**Characters: **Daryl Dixon, Rick Grimes, Andrea, Andrea/Daryl

**Word Count: **1000+

**Summary: **He knew she was okay. She _had _to be okay.

**Author's Note: **Happy Thanksgiving!Thought I'd do my spin on the whole "Daryl-going-back-for-Andrea" scenario. Hopefully I didn't royally mess up. Enjoy!

**. . .**

He had been through hell several times. But _nothing _could compare to _this. _

Daryl gazed at the barn that was set aflame; he watched it burn as zombies waltzed around the fields, horrifying everyone into submission. For the first time in Daryl Dixon's life, he was _terrified. _He had never experienced something as cruel and harsh as this.

He heard the distinct, feminine cries of Carol as she stumbled along the fence towards him, walkers in tow. Once she spotted him, she sprinted over to him. He quickly let her on and sped off before any of the walkers could touch the pair. She wrapped her arms around his torso and wept into his shoulder, soaking the back of his shirt.

He drove on, trying to ignore the sobbing women on the back of his bike. He needed to focus on getting away from the walkers and meeting up with the group. After the walkers were out of reach, he could fully think about where the group might be. _The highway, _he thought suddenly, taking a sharp turn towards his destination.

After half an hour he arrived at the site behind Glenn and Maggie. There was a heartfelt reunion among everyone and a moment of relief was shared among the group. Then, people started to notice that others were missing.

For Daryl, it was a certain blonde beauty.

"Where's Andrea?" he asked gruffly, looking around the group to make sure he hadn't missed her. He didn't.

"I saw her go down." Carol said softly from beside him. Anger flared inside of Daryl. There was no way in hell that his woman was gone. She was one tough bitch and if anyone could've survived the attack on the farm, it was _her. _

"I'm gonna go find 'er." He stated to no one in particular, hopping onto his bike.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Daryl." Rick said, halting him for a moment, "We need to stick together. We're stronger as a group."

"Yeah, well we're also stronger with 'er." He said kicking the stand up on his motorcycle and driving off before anyone could make any more protests. Driving down the abandoned highway, his eyes trailed over the forest, looking for a flash of blonde hair.

After a solid fifteen minutes of searching, he pulled over on the side of the road and parked his bike. He listened, hoping to hear her call out his name. It was futile to think this because if she was running, she probably wouldn't waste her breath on something as pointless as his name. He waited to see her running through the forest away from the walkers, but all he saw nothing.

"Andrea!" he shouted desperately, "Andrea!"

_She ain't gone, _he thought stubbornly, _I ain't losing her. _He pulled out his crossbow and started heading into the woods to look closer but then he heard it. _His name. _

For a split second, he thought he was being delusional. But if there was one thing he could distinctly remember about her, it was the way she said his name. Whether it was when she was annoyed with him or when she was screaming it late at night, he knew it was her.

"Andrea!" he called out again, hoping that she would hear his voice and start running in his direction, "Andrea!"

Then he saw her – she came running down the hill with a bag of ammo slung around her shoulder. There was a whole herd of walkers behind her as she stumbled down the hill, falling face first into the forest floor. She was quickly back on her feet and sprinting towards him.

Once she reached him, he grabbed a hold of her wrist and tugged her along behind him. Surprisingly, she kept pace with him even though she had been running for hours on end. They reached his motorcycle and she clambered on behind him as he started up his bike. Without a second thought, he quickly turned around and started heading back to the group.

He felt her loose grip around his torso and her quick breathing on the back of his neck. His heart had been racing the whole time he saw her running down the hill and he ached as he stood there. He wanted to run to her _so badly _but he knew that they would be caught by the walkers sooner.

The sight of the group was on the horizon and relief quickly flooded his body. The tension in his shoulders was released and he could feel Andrea breathe a sigh of relief as she caught sight of them too.

They reached the group, who were more than shocked when they found that Daryl had returned with a very exhausted Andrea. Maggie quickly came to the bike, helping Andrea who was too weak to stand. She gently placed a hand on her back, helping her walk along. Andrea stumbled and Daryl acted quickly, catching her before she could come into contact with the concrete.

"Come on, Blondie." He grunted, pulling her to her feet. He wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her to one of the tents, where she promptly passed out from exhaustion.

. . .

After a few hours, Daryl went to check on Andrea, worried about her wellbeing. He entered the tent and zipped it closed behind him, taking a seat next to her sleeping form. She shifted uncomfortably in her sleeping bag, her eyes fluttering open.

"Daryl?" she whispered hoarsely.

His reply was shoving a water bottle in her face, muttering that she needed to drink before she damn well passed out again. She gladly took it, chugging it down her sore throat. Slowly sitting up, she placed a hand to her head, feeling a killer headache coming on.

They were silent for some time – she drank the water greedily as he sat there, sharpening a few of his bolts with one of the knives. She glanced over at him, studying the look of concentration on his face as he whittled away at the piece of wood.

"Why?" she asked suddenly, causing him to look up from his work.

"Why what?" he asked confused, looking at her as if she had two heads.

"Why did you come back and look for me?" she explained.

He was silent for a moment, gazing at his bolts on the ground of the tent, "'Cus I knew you were still alive. And I sure as hell ain't leaving ya behind."

She smiled slightly at that, "Thank you."

"Sure, Blondie." He said, smirking at her. She rolled her eyes, leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Love you too, Dixon." She replied, causing the young Dixon to blush a very deep red.


	10. 20: Children

**Prompt Title: **20: Children

**Rating: **T

**Characters: **Daryl Dixon, Andrea, Grimes Baby (Carol)

**Word Count: **1,000+

**Summary: **Daryl's biggest secret? He happened to be really good with kids.

**Author's Note: **Did you guys see the episode of Walking Dead where Daryl was holding a baby? SO FUCKING CUTE! I was dying! This prompt is sort of based off of that moment. I pretty much bullshitted my way through this one, so I apologize if it doesn't seem genuine. I kind of lost steam half way through. And the ending is so shitty but I don't feel like changing it. Oh well, cheers!

**. . .**

If there was one thing that Andrea wasn't expecting when she was reunited with the group, it was Daryl holding a baby.

Andrea had been traveling alone for months after she and Michonne had went their separate ways. Stumbling upon the prison was a miracle in of itself; to find a secure shelter and better yet one that held her old group was more than she could ever ask for. It was upsetting to see that the group had dwindled to such a small number, but there was a great relief when she found Daryl was still there.

She did not expect to see him holding a baby girl when she saw him for the first time in a year.

Of course, he quickly handed the baby over to Maggie and embraced her with such ferocity that she couldn't breathe for a few seconds. Afterwards, she stared at the baby for several long seconds before asking, "Is that yours?"

He chuckled, "No, it's Lori's." There was a moment of silence for their lost friend as he continued, "The little ass-kicker."

Later when they were lying in bed together, he filled her in on all the events that happened while she was gone. How Lori and T-Dog died, how Carol was missing but then was eaten, how they had met the prisoners; her told her everything. Daryl had become a second father to the baby, who they had named after Carol.

"I didn't know you were so good with kids." Andrea commented idly, drawing lazy patterns over Daryl's bare chest.

"I ain't." he replied.

She rolled her eyes, "Whatever you say, Dixon."

. . .

Carol started to grow up. Fast.

She could walk on her own and she didn't need baby formula any more. She said her first word, which coincidentally was "daddy". Her dark brown hair started growing out and she was able to eat other things besides the gross spinach baby food.

They were all there to help her through it all. Andrea and Daryl were the top care takers next to Rick, acting as godparents to the girl. Carol subconsciously preferred Daryl over Andrea, but she didn't mind too much. It was worth it to see Daryl's face soften as he held her delicately in his arms.

They sat in the cell together, Carol in her arms as she hummed her to sleep. Daryl sat next to her, cleaning his crossbow bolts thoroughly. She bounced the baby lightly in her arms as she slowly drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

"This is nice," Andrea said to no one in particularly, leaning against the cement wall.

"Hmm?" Daryl asked, not looking up from his work.

"Just sitting here, not worrying about walkers or surviving or anything else." She explained, slowing the bouncing motion with her arms.

"Yeah, I guess." He agreed, glancing up at her briefly.

She smiled at him, returning her gaze back to the little girl. Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes and thought about having a home in the countryside with Daryl and kids of their own. Soon enough, she drifted off to dreamland like the baby in her arms.

. . .

The thought occurs to her late at night when she's lying in bed next to a sleeping Daryl.

She was thinking about how Carol, who was now around two years old, was chasing Daryl around in the field in the prison earlier that day. They were a cute duo as they played in the yard and Andrea couldn't help but smile the whole time she watched them.

She got so caught up sometimes that she forgot that Carol was not _their_ daughter. After seeing the way Daryl interacted with children, she couldn't help but think about having a child of their own. It was ridiculous to think about starting a family in the middle of this hell hole but a girl can dream, right?

She felt his arm tighten around her waist as he shifted in his sleep, turning slightly towards her. Right then and there, she decided that it wouldn't hurt to ask him about it.

. . .

It was early the next morning and the group was gathered on the first floor of the prison, sharing a peaceful breakfast. Andrea came down from the cell and sat next to Daryl on the cold bench, grabbing a plate of whatever was being served. He grunted, his way of greeting her.

After their breakfast, Rick assigned them different duties for the day. Andrea and Daryl were told to watch the perimeter to make sure that no walkers were intruding. They made their way out to the field silently, each carrying a gun.

Andrea was anxious; she was nervous to talk to Daryl about the prospect of having kids. How would he respond? She knew that men usually freaked out over this sort of thing. What would he say? He'd probably call her stupid and then he'd say that this was no time to have a baby. But she _had _to ask. The worse thing he could do was say no.

It was silent between the pair as they scanned the fence, walking along the perimeter and watching the few walkers who clambered at the fences. Andrea was trying to work up the nerve to speak and Daryl saw the pained expression on her face, "What's up with ya, woman?"

"Do you ever think about having a kid of our own?" she all but blurted out, catching him _way_ off guard. He stopped in his tracks, looking at her as if she had two heads or something.

"What?" he finally asked.

"I said," she hesitated, "Don't you want to have a child of our own?"

He paused for a moment, looking down at his boots, "I don't know. Why do we gotta have a kid? I mean, we got Carol."

"Yeah, but it isn't the same." Andrea said, crossing her arms.

He sighed, nodding slightly, "You really wanna have a kid right now?"

"I think we could take care of her. You're so good with Carol." She shrugged and continued walking forward, Daryl lagging behind.

"Fine," he said at last, "then I guess we're havin' a kid."


End file.
